Flame
by Cairnsy
Summary: Percy reflects on Christmas morning (Book One)


I gave into the craze and decided to pick myself up a copy of the first Harry Potter book, given the hoopla the fourth one was inspiring. Choosing the day the fourth one was to be released here in New Zealand was probably not a hot idea, it took me three bookshops to find a copy of the first one! 

While I'm roughly twice the age of the intended reading audience *sweat drop* I found the book cute in a Rhaul Daul (spelt wrong, I'm betting!) way. most of all however, I found myself falling in love with one of the characters - Percy. 

The fact he's hardly in the book at all means nothing *grin* 

This fic takes place during Christmas day in book one. I've only read the first book, fingers crossed I'm not too out of character! 

**Flame**

He'd never liked Winter. While others gleefully played in the snow, embracing the holidays and the joy of Christmas, all it did was remind him of the numbness of his soul. At least in Summer he could believe that the golden warmth of the sun that basked over him was ignited from within, not just an artificial wave of sunlight. To be warm, even in pretence, was far preferred to the all knowing, all trueful coldness. 

The coldness was what surrounded him now, a familiar companion that even the cozy fireplace couldn't melt. 

His family - each their own flame burning with intensity and brightness, were so different in comparison to the icicle that he felt he was becoming. Fred and George were so full of life! How they managed to live up to the standard of perfection expected of Weasleys yet still *live* was an endless wonder to him. Young Ron had instantly befriended the Potter boy - a friendship based on trust and respect - a real friendship that you just knew would span lifetimes. It seemed a very distant possibility that someone like himself could have a friend who you could trust with your deepest desires, confide you greatest fears. 

To share the fact that you were not as perfect as so many people thought. 

His older brothers had put in place the family lineage of great Weasleys, he doubted at the time they had known the troubles their success would cast on the remaining family members. The need to be as successful, as popular, as brilliant. The feel of the crushing weight of the family name on lonely shoulders ... 

Or maybe it was just he who felt the tangled taste of failure nipping at his heels? 

Unlike the twins, he wasn't full of spirit, and he didn't have the luxury of true friendship as Ron did. He was instead the personification of the Weasley legacy. The triumph, the leadership, the intelligence .... 

Percy the child has long been pushed to the furthest corners of his mind, unimportant, imperfect. 

He closed his eyes as he felt a familiar struggle erupt inside him. Each perfection of being a Weasley called to him, demanding him to put them to justice as his brothers before him had. 

"Be strict!" One aspect called to him 

"No! be lenient! Hasn't your mother taught you anything!" 

"Work hard! you have to get brilliant grades" 

"But don't forget to be social!" 

"You must be mature for your age!" 

"look after your younger brothers" 

He wanted to scream, to silence the voices that ran rampage in his mind. How could he be the perfect Weasley if the idea itself was a contradiction? How could one be as wild as the twins but still be responsible? How could he study to get the grades that didn't come naturally if he was forever protecting his brothers from the undercurrents at Hogwarts that they were still blissfully unaware of? 

Why wasn't just being Percy good enough? 

When had he lost such touch with himself? Had it been when he'd first entered Hogwarts - fresh and eager to be the best, just like his brothers? Or had he always born this desire to succeed, to eclipse all others? 

So many questions, yet no-one to ask them to, no-one to listen. 

Winter would end in a few months, but for him it went on endlessly. 

His friends were as artificial as the warmth glowing from the fire place. As Prefects they banded together, showed a united front of friendship and loyalty for all those who worshipped them. Yet they were friends simply because they were expected to be - they were the elite and behaved as such. Why would a Prefect want to mix with anyone who hadn't been deemed by the school as being as good as him? 

He'd seen through the superficialness of course, he might be naive when it came to the finer points of living, but the Weasley genes had prevented him from being oblivious to others. But he was young, and so desperate to show that he was just as good as his brothers. He'd needed to fit in so badly that he turned an eye to the often callous behaviour of other Prefects, to the coldness they themselves radiated. To be a perfect Weasley he'd sacrificed all that his mother had taught him about being a person. 

There was that contradiction again - to be a perfect Weasley you had to sacrifice part of what made you perfect - it was so confusing. 

And cold. Always so cold. 

By trying to be what everyone wanted, what everyone EXPECTED him to be, he'd not only lost himself but isolated himself from his family at Hogwarts as well. The twins were constant in their ridiculing of him - the more public the better. Ron was distant - due to the unbreachable barrier of perfection that he himself was responsible for. His other brothers had always seemed so much older and unreachable, while Ginny was a mere child. 

He was the perfect Weasley, but as a result he wasn't a Weasley at all. Not even on Christmas day. 

He glanced down at the crudely knitted jumper on his lap, a giant 'P' stitched to the front. P for Prefect? P for perfect? What chance was there that the P stood simply for plain Percy? 

He heard a peel of laughter from a room across the hall, instantly recognisable as one of the twins. Something twisted painfully inside of him - the room was Rons, no doubt both twins were there. A need to suddenly be with his family, even if it was in Perfect Percy mood overrode the fear of rejection that enclosed his heart. Jumper still in hand he headed to the room. 

"What's all this noise?" He tried to stress the disapproval in his voice. Instead of the rejection he had feared, Fred grinned widely at him before grabbing the jumper from his arms. 

"P for Prefect! Get it on Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours!" In slight surprise he noticed that indeed all the Weasleys, even Potter, were wearing the horrid things. His protests sounding weak even to his own ears, he let Fred and George pull his own over his head, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today either!" George said, some how predicting how he'd indeed intended to spend the day, as always, lost in a crowd. 

"Christmas is a time for family" George locked eyes with him as he spoke the last phrase, and a flash of understanding, acceptance and above all love, reflected in his George's eyes, shocking him to the core. 

Perfect Percy could have the day off, he decided, as he was dragged by the grinning twins from the room, Ron and Potter following closely behind. 

Somewhere deep inside him, a flame flickered. 

**FINI**

First Potter fic, I don't know if there will be any more, the book isn't really the kind which I write fanfic about - in fact, I think it is the ONLY book I've written fanfic about. Les Mis doesn't count because I base it more on the musical 

*grin* 

Anyway, hope it was at least readable! Reviews/thoughts/flames all welcome! 

**Cairnsy**

Note: I took some of the last few sentences from the book, so as to tie it in. 


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